Arts, Books, Society

Book Review – Manual For Survival: A Chernobyl Guide To The Future

LITERARY REVIEW

Intro: Thirty-three years on, the radiation from Chernobyl continues to affect us. Four-times deadlier than Hiroshima, it may even be responsible for the rise in cancers and auto-immune diseases. Chernobyl could still be killing us.

AT A BORDER CHECKPOINT between the U.S. and Canada in 2017, American homeland security agents stopped an articulated lorry for a vehicle routine check.

Running a Geiger counter over its trailer, they were alarmed to discover a “radiating mass” was pulsing inside. This could be the border patrol’s worst nightmare: a “dirty” nuclear terrorist bomb.

But when they inspected the contents, all they found was fruit. The emitting radiation stemmed from a crateload of blueberries, picked in Ukraine.

Since official U.S. government thresholds for permissible radiation in fruit are surprisingly high, the cargo was deemed safe and the lorry was waved on its way. Yet, some of the blueberries were in fact way above official levels and therefore not safe at all.

To understand why is to discover that 70 years of atomic tests and nuclear accidents have flooded markets around the world with toxic food.

Kate Brown’s painstaking investigation into the Chernobyl disaster and its aftermath might be the most plausible conspiracy theory you’ll ever read.

Manual For Survival argues that presidents, military chiefs, government mandarins and official scientists have all failed to face a basic truth for decades: nuclear radiation is really poisonous.

 

THAT ought to be obvious to anyone, but, rather than deal with the facts, those in charge have buried their heads in the sand and refused to take any responsibility.

The pretence began with Hiroshima, and the first of two atomic bombs dropped on Japan at the end of World War II.

Concerned that nuclear radiation would be condemned as a type of chemical warfare, and thus morally repugnant, American General Leslie Groves, head of the Manhattan Project, which developed the atomic bomb, told journalists that it was simply a very powerful conventional weapon which inflicted serious burns over a wide area.

Even U.S. army medics were fed this lie. They were baffled that American troops doing reconstruction work in Japan’s devastated cities continued to suffer unexplained burns – symptoms, we now know, of radiation poisoning.

The explosion at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant near the city of Pripyat, in Ukraine, on April 26, 1986, was the worst atomic disaster in human history, equivalent to four Hiroshimas.

The book describes it vividly – “the thick concrete walls wobbled” . . . “the blast tossed up a concrete lid the size of a cruise ship” . . . “plant worker Sasha Yuvchenko watched a blue stream of ionising radiation careening towards the heavens”.

According to official Soviet figures at the time, the death toll was 54 – a gross underestimate – made up of mostly firemen and soldiers who sacrificed their lives to get the blaze under control.

The author reveals that Soviet doctors advised workers on nuclear clean-up duty at Chernobyl to drink vodka throughout the day. It stimulated the liver to cleanse the body of radiation, they said.

Brown’s research, conducted over a period of four years and drawing on 27 archives in Europe, the U.S. and the former Soviet Union, estimates the actual death toll at up to 150,000 in Ukraine alone over the past 30 years.

Even today, the Russian government does not acknowledge this, and there have been no official investigations.

Many were children. Thyroid cancer in young people was rife after Chernobyl, a medical fact that even the Politburo in Moscow could not fully explain away (though the official version was that fewer than 100 children were affected and they were easily cured).

Very high levels of radioactive iodine were among the toxins released in the blast. The human body craves iodine, which is absorbed through the thyroid gland; children process it especially quickly if their levels are low.

So, one simple remedy, effective if not failsafe, would have been for the government to issue safe iodine supplements to everyone at risk. This wasn’t done, partly because almost no one in the Soviet Union, from the Kremlin down to the local hospitals, had any idea how to deal with radiation poisoning.

After all, its effects had always been downplayed, ever since Hiroshima.

And they still are downplayed. When the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant was hit by a tsunami in 2011, causing a meltdown in three reactors, the Japanese response was as inadequate as the Soviet government’s 25 years earlier. Safe iodine, for example, was not distributed.

The leaves that fell in Ukraine’s capital Kiev in autumn 1986 ought to have been treated as hazardous nuclear waste and buried.

The soil had absorbed so much radiation that a government pamphlet suggested, in a low-key way, that mushrooms should not be eaten.

The meat from cattle, sheep and pigs fed on local vegetable produce was also dangerously radioactive. But rather than waste so much food, the Soviet ministry decided to send it off across the USSR, so that every citizen shared in the tribulations of Chernobyl by consuming a small, “safe” amount of irradiated meat. That’s Communism in action.

It might seem so callous as to be unthinkable. But Brown warns that the same thing still happens with much food that reaches the West. After Chernobyl, radiation spread on the wind. It was quickly detected as far away as Sweden. And it lingered.

Today, much agricultural land in Ukraine and beyond is still affected. And so is the produce. But why waste it? If a batch of fruit is “hot”, it can be mixed with other fruit until the overall radiation reading is within so-called safe limits. That’s how a consignment of blueberries could be mistaken for a dirty bomb.

Brown speculates that radiation poisoning, not only from Chernobyl but from numerous other nuclear leaks and many hundreds of atomic explosions, may be responsible for the rising incidence of cancers and autoimmune diseases.

“Few people on earth have escaped those exposures,” she concludes.

Whilst this book doesn’t have all the answers, it does, without doubt, ask the right questions.

The biggest of all, is: why does no one want to face the lessons of Chernobyl?

– Manual For Survival: A Chernobyl Guide To The Future by Kate Brown is published by Allen Lane for £20, 432pp

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Britain, Government, Internet, Legal, Society, Technology

New enforceable code for web giants

INFORMATION COMMISSIONER

FACEBOOK, Google and other social media platforms will be forced to introduce strict age checks on their websites or assume all their users are children.

Web firms that hoover up people’s personal information will have to guarantee they know the age of their users before allowing them to set up an account.

Companies that refuse will face fines of up to 4 per cent of their global turnover – £1.67billion in the case of Facebook.

The age checks are part of a tough new code being drawn up by the Information Commissioner’s Office (ICO), which is backed by existing laws and will come into force as early as the autumn.

. See also Internet safety: The era of tech self-regulation is ending

Experts claim it will have a “transformative” effect on social media sites, which have been accused of exposing young people to dangerous and illicit material, bullying and predators. It includes rules to help protect children from paedophiles online.

The code also aims to stop web firms bombarding children with harmful content, a problem highlighted by the case of Molly Russell, 14, who killed herself after Instagram allowed her to view self-harm images. Under the new code:

. Tech firms will be banned from building up a “profile” of children based on their search history, and then using it to send them suggestions for material such as pornography, hate speech and self-harm.

. Children’s privacy settings must automatically be set to the highest level.

. Geolocation services must be switched off by default, making it harder for trolls and paedophiles to target children based on their whereabouts.

. Tech firms will not be allowed to include features on children’s accounts designed to fuel addictive behaviour, including online videos that automatically start one after the other, notifications that arrive through the night, and prompts nudging children to lower their privacy settings.

Once the new rules are implemented, children should be asked to prove their age by uploading their passports or birth certificate to an independent verification firm. This would then give them a digital “fingerprint” which they could use to demonstrate their age on other websites.

Alternatively, the tech firms could ask children to get their parents’ consent, and have the parents prove their identity with a credit card.

If the web giants cannot guarantee the age of their users, they will have to assume they are all children – and dramatically limit the amount of information they collect on them, as set out in the code.

At present, a third of British children aged 11 and nearly half of those aged 12 have an account on Facebook, Twitter or another social network, OFCOM figures show.

Many youngsters are exposed to material or conversations they are too young to cope with as a result.

The Deputy Commissioner at the ICO, said: “We are going to be making it quite clear that there is a reasonable expectation that companies stick to their own published terms and policies, including what they say about age restrictions.”

A House of Lords amendment tabled by Baroness Beeban Kidron that ensures the new code will be drawn up and put into law, said: “I expect the code to say: ‘You may not, as a company, help children find things that are detrimental to their health and well-being.’ That is transformative. This is so radical because it goes into the engine room, into the mechanics of how businesses work and says you cannot exploit children.”

The rules will come into force by the end of the year, and will be policed by the ICO, which has the powers to hand out huge fines.

It will also use its powers to crack down on any web firm that does not have controls in place to enforce its own terms and conditions. Companies that say they ban pornography and hate speech online will have to show the watchdog they have reporting mechanisms in place, and that they quickly remove problem material.

Firms that demand children are aged 13 or above – as most web giants do – will also have to demonstrate that they strictly enforce this policy.

At the moment, web giants such as Facebook, simply ask children to confirm their age by entering their date of birth without demanding proof.

 

FOR far too long, social media giants have arrogantly refused to take responsibility for the filth swilling across their sites.

Many of these firms, cloistered in Silicon Valley ivory towers, are owned by tax-avoiding billionaires who are indifferent to the trauma inflicted on children using websites such as Facebook and Instagram.

At the click of a mouse, young children are at risk of exposure to paedophiles, self-harm images, online pornography and extremist propaganda.

Finally, however, these behemoths are being brought to heel by the Information Commissioner (ICO). They must ensure strict age checks and stop bombarding children with damaging content – or face multi-million-pound fines.

Such enforced regulation is very welcome and well overdue.

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Arts, Books, Medical, Society, Syria

Book Review – War Doctor: Surgery On The Front Line

MEMOIR

Syria, 2012 – Location: Atmeh. A woman was rushed to the operating theatre with severe bomb damage to her leg.

Dr David Nott, a trauma surgeon, clamped the artery to prevent her from bleeding to death and gently pressed a finger into the gaping hole above her knee joint. He felt an object. It was probably some kind of shrapnel, but it was strangely smooth and cylindrical.

Dr Nott grabbed it with his fingers – “very carefully”, he recalls – and pulled it out. Once extracted he held it up to examine it. His Syrian helper took one look and went visibly pale; he obviously knew what was being presented and blurted out, “Mufajir!” before turning tail and leaving the room.

Nott and the anaesthetist locked eyes in panic. Was this some kind of bomb? The room fell silent, bar the hiss of the patient’s ventilator. The anaesthetist backed away and Nott felt his hand begin to shake so vigorously, he was in danger of dropping the thing.

Then the Syrian helper rushed back in with a bucket of water and motioned for Nott to place the metal object carefully into the bottom of it. He later learned that “mufajir” means “detonator” and it could have blown off his hand.

The woman was injured when a bomb her husband had been making in their kitchen had prematurely detonated, killing him instantly.

You can sense Dr Nott’s frustration and anger at the speed with which the Syrian civil war escalated. It had begun in March 2011, when a peaceful protest against the oppressive regime of Bashar al-Assad was met with shocking brutality.

By chance, Nott had met al-Assad in the early 1990s, when the dictator-in-waiting was working as an ophthalmic senior house officer at the Western Eye Hospital, London.

“He seemed very pleasant and respectful,” recalls the surgeon who would later treat Assad’s victims, including a heavily pregnant woman whose unborn child had been shot through the head by a sniper.

In his devastating memoir of more than two decades volunteering his services in some of the world’s most dangerous places, Nott doesn’t speculate on what changed al-Assad’s attitude to his fellow human beings.

He does, however, pinpoint the precise moment that a shy boy from rural Wales realised he wanted to become a “war doctor”, his epiphany occurring in 1985 when he first qualified as a surgeon. His parents took him to the cinema to see The Killing Fields (Roland Joffe’s 1984 drama about the civil war in Cambodia).

Nott’s father, also a doctor, was born in Burma and Nott had endured racist bullying as a child.

“The film lit a torch in me,” he says. “I could relate to its themes of innocent people being bullied, pushed around or dismissed. It gave a vivid depiction of the horrors of war. But, more than that, the film depicted the incredible power of human love in the face of unimaginable adversity.”

Some eight years later, Nott was standing over an operating table in Sarajevo. He had taken a month’s unpaid leave from the NHS to volunteer for the French aid organisation Médecins Sans Frontieres. The Bosnian civil war opened his eyes to a new medicine, in which decisions had to be made quickly, without the diagnostic tests and specialist equipment on which he had come to depend.

“I had never seen injuries like the ones that were coming in every hour.”

 

THE damage inflicted by bombs and high-velocity bullets was of an entirely different order from those received in even the most catastrophic trauma car accidents.

Multiple limbs were often missing. Many patients were dead on arrival, accompanied by relatives begging for help that Nott could not provide.

When he could attempt surgery, the hospital generators would often fail, and the team would have to wait until a porter brought in a wheelbarrow full of car batteries to get the theatre functioning again.

When bombs fell on the hospital itself, Nott’s team fled, leaving him alone in the dark, his hands around the failing heart of a teenage boy.

Stumbling from the room, soaked in his patient’s blood, Nott felt angry and betrayed. But he soon learned that, as an aid worker, his first duty was to keep himself alive so that he could help more people.

It was the first of many difficult moral choices he would have to make in Afghanistan, Sierra Leone, Chad, the Ivory Coast, Libya, Gaza, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Iraq and Pakistan.

In his scrubs, would you defy the Taliban policeman forbidding you to treat a woman bleeding to death in childbirth? Would you save the life of an ISIS fundamentalist likely to kidnap you on recovery? Would you give money to the children of dead patients?

Dr Nott had to make all these calls under extraordinary pressure.

He describes numerous near-death experiences and there was some terrible emotional fallout.

After returning from one mission, Nott found himself unable to bear the complaints of a British patient fretting about her “unsightly” thread veins and began a screaming, feigned sciatic attack until she left his consulting room.

He also had a panic attack when invited to a private lunch with the Queen. Overwhelmed by the contrast between the luxury of Buckingham Palace and the desolation he had seen in Syria, Nott found himself unable to answer Her Majesty’s questions.

As visions of limbless children filled his head, she placed her hand gently on his and encouraged him to pet her dogs. “There,” she said. “That’s so much better than talking, isn’t it.”

These days, the 63-year-old medic still travels the world to help victims of disaster. But his priorities changed after meeting his wife, Elly, at a charity event for Syria Relief in 2013.

The relationship came as a “bolt from the blue” to the man with a “monastic existence”. But, before they could arrange a first date, Nott made a trip to Gaza, where he elected to stay in the operating theatre to save the life of a little girl called Aysha, even though he had been ordered to evacuate the hospital because an airstrike was expected in minutes.

It was a story that Dr Nott told on Radio 4’s Desert Island Discs in 2017, reducing listeners to tears as he described how he still treasures the photograph he has of her, smiling as she recovered.

David married Elly in 2015 and welcomed daughter Molly the same year. Elly – an Oxford graduate with an MA in international relations – was the chief executive of the David Nott Foundation (a charity training surgeons to work in conflict zones) until the beginning of 2019.

Although as a husband and father, Nott tries harder to avoid danger, he finds it hard to be optimistic about the situation in Syria.

But he remains committed in continuing to train doctors working there.

On the final page of his book, Nott quotes the Koran: “Whoever saves a life, it shall be as though he had saved the lives of all mankind.”

– (Memoir) War Doctor: Surgery On The Front Line by David Nott is published by Picador for £18.99, 304pp

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